Heart and Soul
by SpikesLilSlayer
Summary: Not a song fic, despite the title. Pretty angsty one-shot. Ends up with supreme fluffiness!!! Yay!!! If you're not into spuff fluff then don't read it!


He walks with his head hung down like he has no purpose in life. Like the world created him, he was reborn into a new life, and now the world has spit him out, like it doesn't want him to have a place here anymore. I know that's not true. I've been in love with this man for a while now, although I've never before let myself admit it.  
  
Is it wrong of me? In some ways yes; on a completely different level, no. We belong together, I know it. But he just refuses to see.  
  
I know it's because of the soul that since he's been back, it's been so different. No one else thinks so. Xander, he just doesn't care anymore. He pretty much said, "Do what you want, Buffy. As long as you're happy," which is a miracle from the king of denial.  
  
I haven't been very happy lately. I've been a big burden on them all. They don't seem to know what to do with me, so they've all decided to let me do what I want. What a relief; now I don't have to answer to them anymore! Okay, so I'm being sarcastic. But the icing on the cake is that, supposedly, now that we've stopped the current big bad, which happens to have been my best friend, and things have resumed to almost, but not quite, normalcy, I'm the one nominated to be the boss, once again; and I'm so sick of it. The only one who knows how I feel is Spike. And right now, I'm feeling that even he's alienated from me, just like the rest of them.  
  
I walk through the graveyard, twirling my stake through my fingers aptly yet mindlessly. I think that no one has really noticed how listless I've been, how lonely. Especially when he, the one who declare his love for me and never expected me to return it, the one who nearly died trying to save me and my family, the one who put up with my physical and verbal abuse just so I could feel, the one who I realize that I've loved for quite some time, will flinch when I reach out to touch him, will drop his head when I try to talk with him, will, God, will refuse to come within a 50 yard radius of my home, a six foot radius of me.  
  
I want to hit something so hard that my hand cracks and bleeds, I want to scream as loud as I can and as long as I can just for the sake of screaming, I want to pound the floor with my angry fists, and kick so hard that I kick down a brick wall, and shout in frustration that the man I love is afraid to come near me.  
  
All this I've built up, but will never say. Because that's the way I am. I have to take care of everyone. No one wants to hear my horrible problems, even when they ask what I'm thinking. They don't really want to know.  
  
"I want to hear them, luv."  
  
Caught up in my own world filled with dysfunction, I don't even realize that I was saying this last rant aloud, and that Spike has been standing next to my motionless body for a few minutes now. I turn, startled, to him, and as expected, he jumps back. This is it. I sigh, aggravated, and get ready to let it all out. I don't know how he'll take it, but I'm willing to give it a shot for the sake of trying. Of course, as usual, I am interrupted by a demon. A large, gooey, ugly one approaches, and Spike stands by my side, ready to fight. Lately I have found that the only time he's dependable is when we're fighting. But even then he's a little distant.  
  
I punch the demon and he roars in agitation. After two kicks he's really mad, and with a hard blow from him I go flying back into a grave. Rubbing my head I flip up in time to see Spike punching the demon. He never much was one for kicking. I run over again, just as Spike flies past. I kick the demon, hard, then as he tries to grab for me I spin around and give a swift kick to the head. He grabs my leg and throws me back again, and as I fly back I crash into Spike, who has just gotten up. We fall back, and this time Spike does not grab onto me, like with the troll. He gives me a little push and I get back up. However, the demon is escaping, and apparently it is a very stupid demon, because it trips over a grave and knocks itself out. Spike and me walk over, and Spike snaps its neck no problem.  
  
I turn, beginning the conversation, flustered because of the fight.  
  
"Listen, Spike," I begin. "I know you got your soul back. Anya told me. I don't know why, and I don't know how, but I don't care. I'm sorry you didn't believe you could tell me right away. I don't know why you've been so different since you've been back. I do know that I've been horrible in the past. But let's put the past behind us, it's just another reason for us to try again. I've forgiven you." I annunciate the last part, giving meaning and feeling to it. He looks astounded at my outburst, probably because we've both been so quiet with each other lately. He shakes his head.  
  
"Buffy, I know I was wrong. I admit it. I also know you've forgiven me, although I have no idea why, but-"  
  
"No!" I interrupt, now getting flustered and ready to end this, ready to make my final point. "It's my fault everything that happened, happened. I just want you to know."  
  
"Know what?" He asks, as if he has no idea what I'm talking about. Well, I'm not being very coherent. I'll make it easy for him, I decide, as I shout to the world, tilting my head back slightly.  
  
"I miss you! The real you! You can fool everyone else but you can't fool me. If this is what the soul does to you, then I wish you didn't have it."  
  
Without meaning to I speak harshly, and he looks hurt.  
  
"You can't mean that."  
  
"But I do." I take a deep breath and say what I've been wanting to say since he first returned. "I love you. The real you, soul or no soul. I love the real Spike, who'll give me my greatest fight when he's trying with his never-ending passion for the spar, and who'll train with me, and who makes me so mad I want to punch him in the nose, who'll, God, Spike, who'll pin me up against the wall and pound into me so hard that I scream for mercy and air."  
  
By now I am crying, and everything is blurry yet so clear. He comes to me for the first time in weeks, gripping my shoulders gently and comfortingly. I notice he is crying too. I continue, my body shaking with sobs, held up only by the pressure of his hands.  
  
"I love the old Spike, who tells me it's okay to be angry at the world and who understands my problems and helps me face my fears, who loves me for me. And who I love so much, and so deeply, so much that it hurts just to breathe sometimes."  
  
As he pulls me into his embrace, I look up and I feel as if I am lost in the torrent of emotions that are his eyes. He stares back into my green ones, and it seems that in just this one moment, as we hold each other close, afraid to let go, everything that ever happened to tear us apart is forgotten, and we both instantly know that it's going to be okay. No more words need to be said as we simply stand there, holding, taking in the missed and familiar scent and feel of the other.  
  
I look up again into his face, covered with goo, and I know mine is the same. I know that if any of my friends saw this touching moment, they would probably sniff and stick up their nose at our appearances. But when I look at him, all I see is..beauty. I mean it truly and sincerely when I say I love this man. I know he loves me with all of his heart in return. Because he does have a heart, no matter what people say, and now he his soul back. And I think I have just recovered both of mine, heart and soul, as well. 


End file.
